


Simple Men with Simple plans

by Mooseifer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Sam Winchester, Hunter Castiel, Hunter Gabriel, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooseifer/pseuds/Mooseifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel and Castiel Novak are two estranged brothers on the hunt for their father's killer. They might not be great hunters, but they're getting by with their brains, luck, and the holy Novak Bible--The (unhelpful but informative) "How-to" on killing the supernatural, written by their father, Chuck Novak. They might just be beginners, but at least they're not total assholes like their cousins, the Miltons. Besides, who needs a cool impala, tough-as-nails dad, and hunter training when they have Ole Susie?</p><p>Eventual Destiel and Sabriel. (Very eventual.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call me Chuck!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading. Please excuse my poor grammar, I am not bright. This is my first story so expect a lot of badly written material. But try to enjoy anyways. Thank you again.

Charles “Call-me-Chuck!” Novak was dead.

And now, Gabriel Novak was the shortest of the Novak clan. And the oldest.

                He wasn’t sure why that was his first realization. Call it shock, maybe.

Both Novak children had received a terrified, short voice message from their father. There were sounds of wood breaking, glass shattering, and worst of all, his father in tears.

                                “Hey, Gabey.

                                        No matter what you hear, stay where you are. Do not come home.

                                                I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to leave you. Take care of each other. I love you.”

                Before they could hear the ending beep of the message, Chuck’s two sons were already on their way home. It was a long drive for Gabriel, who hadn’t returned to his childhood home in years. From what he could surmise, Castiel still lived here with their father. Gabriel wonders how long Castiel had been here before Gabriel’s arrival. Long enough to burn the body in a pyre. Long enough to clean the blood and gore off the walls and floors. The house looked impeccable when Gabriel arrived: The floors were swept, the walls were clean, everything was in order—except for Chuck Novak’s desk, which was covered in blood and bits of…

                He heard a quiet sniffle and instantly felt incredibly awkward. His socially-awkward, mute, hermit-like brother was reacting more normally than Gabriel. All those years of friends asking Gabriel if the younger Novak was an alien and now, Gabe was the weirdo. He could feel his brother staring at him, as usual, because Castiel always had a staring problem. But Gabriel wasn’t ready to face him; to face the inevitable conversation about how and why and who. His father’s death must have a strange impact on Gabriel, one he wasn’t aware of, because the sudden thought of cleaning up the mystery of dad’s death and parting ways with Castiel made him feel like crying. His father was gone and now Weirdo-Cassie was his only family left. And knowing his brother, he’ll leave for Nerd University as soon as their inevitable conversation is over. Out of Gabriel’s life forever.

                A lump suddenly formed in his throat and Gabriel felt like sobbing.

                He didn’t understand why. He never hung out with the little weirdo. At least, he hadn’t since he turned thirteen and realized that he was surrounded by two agoraphobic, socially-ignorant bookworms whose idea of a good night was watching Star Trek together. Gabriel didn’t want to live like them. He never wanted to be anything like them.

                But he was back. As soon as he heard his father’s terrified voice breaking through his phone, he was shoving his way out of the faceless woman’s apartment; hands ripping through his pockets for his car keys. He planned on calling his father back, talking to him in the privacy of his car, asking him _why the fuck he was so scared?_ He wanted nothing more than to jump back into the warm bed and warm arms of Rachael-Samantha-what-the-fuck-ever and to return to a life where he could ignore his father and brother in peace. But Chuck never picked up.

                                So he called again.

                And again.

                And again.

                                And started his car, dialing his father’s number until his phone died. He left him angry voice messages: “Chuck, this better be fucking important.”

“Why the fuck are you leaving messages like that?”

“Holy shit, just pick up already.”

                “Dad, please…Pick up. Call me, please…I’m coming home okay? I’ll see you soon.”

~

                Gabriel had taken Ole Susie when he left home at the age of 17. She was a mint green, 1962 Volkswagen Microbus. A beautiful piece of American history if you ask Gabriel Novak. He had won her in a vicious poker tournament. The funny little Irish fellow threw such temper tantrum when he lost that it was enough to seal Ole Susie in Gabriel’s heart forever.

                It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family. It was more that he felt no connection to them since he hit puberty. They were both into things like reading and writing and staying indoors until you looked like an albino and hissed at sunlight. Gabriel? He wanted to enjoy life. So he left them. They had fun while it lasted, but it was time for Gabriel to seek out greener pastures.

                And now he was back here with Ole Susie, staring at the blood-splattered papers on his father’s work desk while ignoring the stares of his brother. The old house that used to be filled with hot chocolate, infomercials, and a smell of books was now gone forever.

                                Gabriel sighed, finally meeting his brother’s gaze. “Should we call the police?”

                Castiel frowned, shaking his head. “We should find who killed him.”

                                “Cas-“

                “Our father was torn to shreds.” Castiel’s jaw is squared, his eyes shining defiantly. “The police can’t do anything.”

                The older Novak raises his hands, placating. “Okay, okay. We’ll ask someone to hunt it down.” Despite their little-to-no-interaction, Gabriel knew better than to get in Castiel’s way when he had that look in his eyes. Chuck Novak had been the ridicule of the Hunter community for years. The poor guy tried, but he was no fighter. His sister, on the other hand, was the light of the Novaks; their saving grace.

                Until she married that dick, John Milton. Then the Miltons were the crowned princes of Hunters and the Novaks were dragged through the mud, with only Chuck feebly attempting to revive his family name. The man was always a better scholar than he was a fighter. But he tried his best to hunt. Gabriel’s heart ached for a moment, remembering when his father crawling back him, torn and bloody. He would clean his father up, and he and Cassie would listen to his father’s latest hunt. He would show them notes he had written down, weaknesses he found. Often, his notes were succinct when it came to hunting: “Ghosts: Salt Rounds.” But he would write pages upon pages on lore, mythology, and fables. Yes, Chuck Novak was a brave man, but he was no fighter.

                “No, I will hunt it.”

“…What?” Gabriel snapped out of his reverie, staring at his socially-awkward, mute, hermit-like, and now homicidally-suicidal brother. “You’re what? No.” He shook his head, trying to find his older-brother voice. “No, you can’t.”

                Castiel bristled at Gabriel’s tone, unused to hearing it after all these years. “You cannot stop me, Gabriel.” He was firm, terse, and Gabriel knew his brother was ready to strike him. It should have been laughable, Castiel Emperor-of-the-Nerds Novak, preparing himself to fight Gabriel I’ll-Clock-You-in-the-Balls Novak. But amusement wasn’t his first reaction; or his second. To his own shock, Gabriel felt fear and worry for his brother. Like Chuck, he wasn’t a fighter. He just wasn’t. Castiel was a book reader, a scholar. He’ll end up as one of those old guys who owned nothing but reading glasses, slept on a pile of books, and walked with a swanky cane. An old man who did nothing but read, maybe teach (Gabriel is unsure of what Castiel wants to be), and die of incredibly ancient age in a sweater vest, survived by his many cats. Not face down, torn to shreds, and _dead_ in his early twenties _._

                “No,” his voice is strangled and tight. “We’ll tell John. He can hunt it.”

                Castiel’s face instantly changes from annoyance to fury. “ _John Milton?”_ he spits out. “ _John Milton_ will not help us.”

                                “Dad was Mary’s brother.” Gabriel pleads, “We can try.”

                His brother’s expression turns neutral, straightening his body. “It is _clear_ ” he spits out, “That you know nothing about our family. Leave.”

                Gabriel could feel something inside him twist.

                                “I will take care of my father, as I always have.”

                He winced, hard. “Cassie, I know I haven-“

”I’ve burned my father’s body and now I’ll find his killer. Do what you want,” His younger brother interrupted. “You always did.”

Gabriel’s mouth fell agape. This was not like Castiel. His little brother currently had a cruel glint in his eyes; he must genuinely hate him. Castiel was never cruel, never hurtful. Weird, yes. Awkward, definitely. But not cruel or hateful.

                Briefly, Gabriel wondered where the little kid who would free trapped bees and moths went; when his little brother went from a complete marshmallow to…Whatever the hell he become when Gabriel left. He remembered when Castiel cried and begged Chuck not to pour weed killer on the tufts of grass that grew in-between the cracks in their driveway. He threw such a tantrum, calling it murder. He was always such an innocent child. A goddamn saint. And now…

Unable to maintain eye contact, Gabriel’s eye flickered downwards, wincing at Castiel’s derisive snort. The younger man shoved past him, running up to his room.

                He surveyed the room, ignoring the sound of Castiel stomping away upstairs. Meekly, he approached Chuck’s work desk. It was littered with paper, books, and his trusty laptop. Blood splattered across the surface. Gabriel swallowed thickly, vision blurring as his eyes brimmed with tears. A delayed reaction, Gabriel decides. He hopelessly swipes the dried blood from the desk in a vain effort to clean his father’s table. His eyes catch onto something, something buried beneath the worn, filthy paper. Gabriel felt a lump forming, a ragged cry escaping his throat.

                It was their last photo together, taken on Gabriel’s birthday—the final one he would celebrate with his family before opting to celebrate with friends, drugs, adventure. God, he looked like such a smarmy, little shit. It was during the time when Chuck Novak would watch infomercials all night, making Gabe a cup of hot chocolate (topped with pirouettes, whipped cream, and chocolate shavings) whenever the child joined him. Together, they would watch infomercials, making fun of non-stick pans, groaning whenever HEADON-APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD came on, and (at least for Gabriel) admiring the power juicers. Together, they would pass out on the couch, Chuck Novak drooling on the couch cushions and Gabriel drooling on his father’s shoulder. They would wake to the sound of Castiel babbling upstairs. Even as a toddler, Castiel was very quiet. It had worried his father, Gabe remembers. “Babies should cry,” Chuck would tell the pediatrician, but the doctor always smiled and said “Castiel’s just a quiet one.”

                For some reason, for some stupid reason, Gabriel was obsessed with the power juicer infomercial. Something about making food into liquid for even more food was entrancing. Plus, what kid could resist the allure of smoothies 24/7? No one. Not even Castiel, Gabriel would say. And as usual, Chuck Novak gave in and bought Gabriel a power juicer for his birthday. In the photo, Gabriel had his arms around the juicer, with Castiel’s less-than-impressive Eggstractor gift pushed off to the side. Chuck was holding Gabriel tightly, a large smile on his face and a hand on Castiel, who was too busy making eyes at the Eggstractor to notice the camera.

When Castiel started to walk, he would also join them on their nightly rituals. When he spotted the Eggstractor—some plastic contraption that claimed to peel boiled eggs—he was enamored. Why, Gabriel had no idea. Cassie didn’t even like eggs. But Castiel gave it to him on his birthday and after several dozen eggs and failed attempts at peeling, the eggstractor was hidden away under the kitchen sink. Castiel was the one to do it; so disappointed in his trust in the Eggstractor, the child felt it was his responsibility to get rid of it. His younger brother wailed, shutting the door (and most likely, his love) on the once trusted Eggstractor, whom he had devoted all of his faith on. Gabriel laughed so hard, causing him to wail even louder. It took more than fruit smoothies to buy his forgiveness.

Briefly, Gabriel wondered if it was still under the sink. He walked into the kitchen, prepared to hunt for the useless gift when he heard his brother stumble into the kitchen. Castiel had only been thirteen when Gabriel left. It was hard to imagine that he was twenty-one. The short, twiggy mop of hair had grown. He was all grown-up (fucking _taller_ ), lugging duffle bags filled with clothing, money, hunter-crap to avenge their dead father. Gabriel felt his eyes tingle again and brushed away at them.

                “You’re still here.” Castiel looked vaguely surprised at the sight of his older brother, crouching around their kitchen cabinet. “Hoping to sell some of our valuables?”

                Gabriel snarled, standing up to his full (shorter) height, “Castiel, seriously. Shut the fuck up.” His younger brother stared at him, emotionless. For a brief moment, Gabriel despised him. “I know you’re pissed, but I’m here, aren’t I?”

                                The taller Novak shrugged, “For now, yes.”

“God, you’re worse than my exes.”

                His younger brother scowled, “Why are you still here?”

“Dude,” Gabriel ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. “You can’t go off hunting.”

                “Yes, I can.”

“No, you’re going to get yourself killed, you fucking idiot!”

                “You can’t stop me.” His younger brother’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You lost that right a long time ago.”

 _God, he’s almost as bad as Amy._ Gabriel rubbed his face vigorously, groaning loudly. “Why can’t we just send those damn Miltons?”

                “You know why.”

Of course he did.

They were absolute dicks. Ever since Aunt Mary died in some freak fire, John Milton was hell-bent on making his sons hunters, chasing some freak “demon.” Talk about denial—the asshole couldn’t handle his wife’s death to the point of making up some story of a yellow-eyed demon? Even Gabriel, at the age of four and completely aware of the darker world around them, knew John was nuts. A part of him remembered how it was before Aunt Mary’s death—when John was funny and cool and so freakin’ tough (unlike his own dad) and his best friend was his cousin, Michael. John would bring them both Fun Snaps, small balls of paper that popped when you threw them on the ground. Gabriel and Michael would spend the entire day throwing them at Chuck’s feet, laughing every time the man yelped in fright. God, he was such a weenie.

And then Aunt Mary burned. John left the house with Michael and Mark without stopping by to say goodbye to Gabriel. John would occasionally show up to their house, drunk and furious, screaming about how Chuck failed to protect his little sister. How if Chuck were a better hunter, he could have helped save Mary. How if Chuck weren’t so goddamn useless, they could find this Demon and send it straight to hell. Michael and Mark, their cousins, were now as obnoxious as their father. Michael was cool, calmer than his father. During their brief visits, he would treat Gabriel and Castiel as though they were dirt. _“A real hunter would know that…”_ Always going on and on about hunting. No more Fun Snaps. No more Chuck and John and Mary huddled around the barbeque. Mark was okay when he was a baby but the minute he started talking, was somehow worse than Michael. He acted just like John Milton. Brash and loud. He also broke Gabriel’s power juicer, so fuck that guy.

“Yeah, I know,” Gabriel sighed. “They’re total dicks.”

For a second, Gabriel saw his little brother smile. It was a small, subtle thing; gone as soon as it appeared. But it filled the older Novak with a small bead of hope. “So, uh.” His voice immediately prattled, eager not to let the good mood go. “How are you planning to get this thing?”

                Castiel frowned, “I’m not sure yet.” He set one of his bags down and immediately began to search through his messenger bag. “I found dad’s old hunter journal. Hopefully, that will provide me with some assistance.”

“You’re really going for it, huh?”

                Castiel looked up from the book, his face blank. “Something killed our father. Brutally.” Gabriel winced, he had forgotten that Castiel was here, alone. Cleaning up the remains of their father. Cleaning up the blood. Setting the up pyre and burning the body.

Alone.

                “While I was in class, something murdered our father.” His voice was even but Gabriel knew his brother was torn up inside. “I should have been here. It was my responsibility.” His eyes, large and bright, stared down at the worn, leather Hunter’s journal. “I failed hi-“

                Gabriel shoved Castiel with a sudden ferocity that confused even the older Novak. “Shut up! You hear me?!” His hands shook as he grabbed at the book in his younger brother’s hands. “You didn’t fail anyone! Anything!” He could hear his voice tremble. Inside, he felt a sudden bout of rage churning.

                “It was me! I failed, okay!?” He touched at the soft leather of the book. His father had shown this to them, proudly, many times. Despite his failed attempts to hunt, he was always so proud at his discoveries. Despite the ridicule from the other hunters, Chuck always got back up at night, ready to protect his sons from the preternatural. Gabriel’s voice weakened, “I failed dad. I failed you.”

                Castiel was silent; neither denying nor confirming Gabriel’s guilt. He didn’t need to. One look around the house, the blood splatters on the desk, the duffle bags filled with clothing, and Gabriel knew he failed his family.

                                “I’ll go with you.”

                “What?” Castiel frowned, his head cocked. “Why?”

                Gabriel laughed weakly, attempting to appear nonchalant. “I’m not gonna fail you again, Cassie.” He tried to sound casual, but his voice sounded desperate. Even to his own ears. “I’m not leaving you again.”

                His brother’s head was still cocked to the side, as he had always done. Even as a baby, when Gabriel would play “Peek-a-boo!” with him, he always responded in the same, quiet manner. Eyes narrowed, head tilted.

“…If you insist.”

                Charles “Call-me-Chuck!” Novak was dead. Gabriel knew he would have to deal with the loss of his father sometime soon, but for now, his father had given him another chance for redemption. His final words to his sons were “Take care of each other,” and Gabriel wasn’t going to let his father down.

                Not again.


	2. God save Gabriel (From Castiel.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope that my writing improves enough to make this a pleasurable experience. I'll work on it.
> 
> Enjoy! (Oh god. Please. Please, enjoy.)

It had only been three months.

And Gabriel Novak was currently dying.

And to make it worse, his good-for-nothing, socially-awkward, nerd brother was watching him die. The idiot kept shooting at the invisible clown with salt rounds and splashing holy water near its vicinity, as if he was hoping it’d suddenly start working after, y’know. Not working. “C-cas…” He hisses out, feeling his face reddening as the Clown-Man-Invisible Chameleon tightens his grip on his neck. When the younger Novak stops to look at him, Gabriel flips up his middle finger; his final words to his dumbass brother.

                “Gabe!” Castiel starts angrily, leveling the shotgun once again. Once. Again. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that Castiel is the smarter Novak. The more stubborn Novak, maybe, if you thought about how many times salt rounds didn’t work on the clown, and how many times Castiel was attempting it. It wasn’t covered in their father’s journal; the holy Novak book detailed _some_ of the supernatural entities their father had encountered when Chuck still attempted to hunt. Gabriel and Castiel knew the general stuff: salt rounds on ghosts, burning bones, holy water on demons, the usage of “Christo,” and all that jazz. Hell, their first encounter with a demon involved lots of Holy water and the two brothers screaming “CHRISTO!” at the top of their lungs. They were just making it up as they went along, figuring out when to shoot, when to burn, when to Google, and when to run for your life.

“M-maybe…Aim for its head…” Gabe chokes out, wishing they had made a run for their lives. It was just his luck; he was going to die by the hands of a blind Carnie. All those years of death threats from ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, marks, flings, not to mention his own sibling, and this blind-clown-man was going to be the one to actually kill him. Castiel wasn’t sure if his brother’s eyes were rolling from sarcasm or from the lack of oxygen but it was enough to finally stop him from wasting more salt rounds. Praise the lord, Gabriel’s air-deprived brain sang. Castiel Novak—proof that even nerds could be really fucking stupid.

                Castiel tosses the shotgun aside, digging through his pockets. “Grrkhh!” Gabriel grunts out, flailing and kicking at the invisible clown-chameleon that was strangling him. It was the most magnificent feat of resilience Castiel has ever seen. Even when faced with his own mortality, Gabe was running his mouth. The younger Novak’s hand settles on a letter opener he had stolen from the carnival owner, Mr. Cooper. Giving a quick glance to the letter opener and his brother (now purple-faced,) Castiel reasons that anything will die if you stab it enough. At least it might distract the clown-thing and give Gabriel some time to breathe. He takes a running start and lunges at where he suspected the clown to be, bringing down the letter opener on (hopefully) his back.

                The clown screams, releasing his hold on Gabriel. The older Novak gasps, immediately rubbing his neck. He’s still underneath the now-visible Clown-man, watching him writhe in agony as his brother slashes down over and over again, an eerily calm expression on his face. This must be what serial killers look like, Gabriel muses. The Clown-man dies in an explosion of ash and Gabriel Novak lives to see another day. He wheezes, falling back to lie down on the cold asphalt. His hands automatically dig through his pockets, searching for a bit of comfort. He finally finds it—a Hershey’s Kiss. “Yesss…” he wheezes out, tearing through the wrap. His brother grunts, sitting down next to him. The dark-haired boy rubs his face tiredly, watching his brother attempt to eat a piece of chocolate with a bruised and swollen neck.

                “What was that thing?” Castiel mumbles into his hands. Gabriel makes a noncommittal noise, too focused on the Earthly pleasure of eating. They could probably describe the Blind-man-turned-clown-chameleon to Google. Maybe search for “Clown thing that stalks kids, murders parents, and turns invisible.”

~

The mystery is solved, later, by the Almighty Google. They were supposedly some sort of Hindu creature called Rakshasa that could turn invisible and were weakened with brass, which, thankfully, was what the letter opener was made out of. Gabriel celebrated the sudden win for Novaks—their luck was finally turning around!—as well as his brother’s penchant for stealing small objects. This, by the way, convinced Gabriel that his brother might have a small ounce of cool in him—maybe they are related after all! 

Later, Gabriel and Castiel proudly make an entry in the Novak Bible:

                “Rakshasa: Hindu creatures. Turns invisible; stab it with brass.”

 It wasn’t very detailed, but it was more than what Chuck Novak had left them. Gabriel waits until Castiel enters the shower, adding in another small detail: “Do not waste salt rounds, holy water, and breath on Latin phrases on Rakshasa. _Cassie._ ”

He leans back, smirking at his handiwork.

                Another day, another one bites the dust.

~

                Looking back, their mission to find their father’s killer had started out rocky. Extremely rocky.

                                After leaving their childhood home to the care of Becky, their neighbor who might’ve totally been screwing their father, the two brothers loaded up Ole Susie and drove out of town.

                Without any solid leads, they wasted a tank of gas and scared half the town by asking around about “strange murders.” Gabriel almost wanted to suggest going back home and leaving the Hunter life, but Castiel would always stare at him before he said it.

 _That creepy little fucker had to be psychic._  

Even if Gabriel wanted to go home, the hunt had ignited some sort of angry thirst for vengeance in him. He couldn’t go back; he couldn’t leave and return to some bullshit life of fucking, stealing, and drinking. Every sleepless night would be spent sitting inside Ole Susie, staring at his phone. Waiting for the voicemail left by his dying brother.

                So he filled up Ole Susie, day after day, with Castiel sitting in the passenger seat; alive and safe and together.

But things appeared to be looking up for the two newbie hunters. He remembered their first encounter with the supernatural. There was a recent murder in an old farm in Kansas (it’s always an old farm, isn’t it?) and it was the third one to have occurred in the farm.

 

(2 Months ago)

_After driving for days, Gabriel decided that he deserved a nice, long break and headed into a diner—the go-to place for food, information, and comfort, according to Chuck Novak. “Just look around for anything strange!” he wrote. If it were the go-to place for information, maybe they’d have something on Chuck, Gabriel declared. The rumbling of his stomach spoke the truth but Castiel didn’t call him out on it._

_“Anything unusual?”_

_Castiel was digging through his smart phone and Gabriel was shifting through a newspaper at a slower pace. “Well, some lady got trapped in her pull-out couch and died.”_

_Castiel frowned, “that’s not unusual.”_

_“How about this one?” Gabriel turned the newspaper to face his brother, “someone got their head stuck in a stair lift and died.”_

_“That’s not unusual, either.”_

_Gabriel sighed, “Relax, Tom Jones.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Nevermind.”_

_One of the things that Chuck Novak wrote in his journal was to look for unusual deaths. That normally led to supernatural creatures which you then, apparently, salt to death. Trouble is, neither Gabriel nor Cas knew what to look for. It was starting to look as though their journey into the world of the Supernatural was a bust. Briefly, Gabriel contemplated looking up the Miltons, asking them for help. He squashed the thought almost as quickly as it entered his brain. Not only would Castiel kick his ass, but Gabriel would help him._

_“Gabriel.”_

_The older Novak snapped back up, withdrawing from his thoughts. “Yeah?”_

_“I think I found one.”_

_~_

_The ghost was more fearsome than Castiel had expected. He had sent Gabriel to find and burn her remains (“Oh, gross, why don’t you do it?” “Gabe…”) and now he was facing an angry, very ugly ghost, armed only with a small thing of salt. “Shit!” The ghost had appeared right in front of him, when she had only been several feet away a second ago. He felt his grip on the salt slip and it tumbled to the ground, useless. Castiel backed away, unsure of his next course of action when he noticed the ghost had hesitated, moving awkwardly away when she walked towards him. Looking down, he confirmed his suspicion: The ghost had stepped to avoid the salt that spilled out. With a cry, he tumbled forward and grabbed at the salt, willing himself not to wince at the angry shriek from the ghost. Maybe it was a banshee, sure sounded like one._

_Castiel turned quickly, dumping the salt out so that it formed a protective circle around him. Praying that his theory was right, he gathered all of his courage up and looked around for the ghost. She was standing right behind him, outside of the salt circle. He felt his heart beating out of his throat, while she stared at him, angry and murderous. It took all of his self-control not to tumble backwards. Her hands clutched at a blade, shaking, shaking. But she remained outside of the salt circle. Hallelujah. She screamed again, a vicious noise that made Castiel tremble. “Gabriel, please…” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore his voice quaking. She was circling him; he was prey._

_He looked down, the salt circle was small. One misstep could easily disturb the salt, and if Castiel’s theory was correct, then a broken circle could provide the ghost with enough space to enter and gut him. The ghost kept vanishing, reappearing and screaming. She was trying to scare him, trying to get him terrified enough to bolt or move, break the circle. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay still. It was better this way, Castiel assured himself. If he had left to find the lock of hair, Gabriel would have been injured. He might not have lost his grip on the salt, chancing upon the bit of luck like Castiel had. Better him than his brother, he repeated to himself, trying to stay still while his entire body trembled. Better him than his stupid, loud brother._

_She was staring at him, unmoving except for the tremors that shook her body. Her eyes stared into his, unblinking. Castiel let out a small whimper and the ghost screamed again, raising her knife futilely against the protective barrier of salt. He couldn’t help but wince, tripping backwards. He gasped, eyes immediately fixed on the broken line of salt. He turned back, the ghost stepping towards him. “Oh god,” he whispered, his hands rising in a vain attempt to shield himself. “Gabe…”_

_The ghost shoved him against the wall, knife prickling at his throat. He cried out, grasping around the wall for anything to use against her. “Gabe!” He cried out, “Gabriel!”_

_He felt the knife pressing harder, his skin breaking. “Shit, shit. Gabri-“_

_The ghost screamed again, her eyes burning in anger, dark smoke pooling out from her eyes and mouth. “Oh, what the fuck…” Castiel whimpered._

_She vanished. The younger Novak tumbled to the ground, unable to hide his shudder when he heard the knife clattering next to him._

_“Cassie!”_

_He heard his brother dashing towards him, feet pounding loudly against the wooden floor. “Cas!? Are you okay?!”_

_Gabriel flew through the doorway, zooming in on the prone figure on the floor. “Cassie?!” His voice cracked, worry and fear seeping through his voice. “Ca-“_

_His knees gave out; Gabriel tumbled to the floor in relief when his brother looked up at him. His throat had a small smear of blood, but nothing severe. He was alive and that was all that was important. “Shit, Cas, I’m sorry.”_

_Castiel shook his head, “I’m fine.” Gabriel snorted and laughed; it sounded panicked and terrified to his own ears. “Shit, Cas. No.” He crawled towards his brother, throwing his arm around the (frustratingly) taller, but younger Novak. “I’m definitely buying you a beer tonight.”_

_“Make it a shot of tequila.”_

_~_

_That night, when they retired to their hotel room, the two brothers created their first entry in the Novak Bible. “Ghosts: A line of salt will protect you. DO NOT BREAK IT.”_

_Before Gabriel slept, Castiel added a small line below their entry: “Never let Gabriel do the search-and-burn. That is a death sentence.”_

_~_

It was their first hunt against a ghost. Looking back, it went _extremely_ stupidly. The ghost was nothing; an easy kill. But for two brothers with no experience or knowledge aside from a vague idea of salting and burning _something_ , it felt like climbing Everest.

                They weren’t sure what had killed their father yet, but at least they were sticking together. Hell, the Novak Bible was even filling out a bit. They didn’t have the heart to rip out the pages on lore or to even start their own journal.

Using their father’s Hunter’s journal just felt right.

                The two brothers may not be close to solving the mystery of their father’s death, but each supernatural case brought them closer. After their first ghost hunt, the two brothers agreed to solve each case together until they could finally meet their father’s killer. It may be time consuming, but killing ghosts, demons, and other creepy-crawlies meant that they might be saving some other family from losing their father, mother, pervy uncle. 

                Sounded like a decent gig.


End file.
